


Oral Fixation

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Jimmy continue to explore the possibilities of their relationship. Part of Are's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/44623">Hauntsverse</a> series. Set after "Haunts."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oral Fixation

Jimmy always wanted to be happy.

Not that he’d ever been particularly sad. His childhood had been as good as these things generally were, and he’d come through the war much better off than most men. But he’d never been truly happy—truly, deeply, ecstatically happy—until now. And he had a dead man to thank for it.

Jimmy tried not to think too much on that. The whole business with the ghosts and the haunting and the flaming trees had happened, and Jimmy was grateful for it, but now, it was best forgotten. And what better way to forget than wrapped in Thomas’ arms?

"Mmm." Jimmy leaned forward, closing the minuscule space between them, and kissed first Thomas’ nose, and then his cheek. Thomas stirred a little, and Jimmy kissed Thomas’ upper lip. “Hell,” Thomas murmured. He could be quite profane, Jimmy had learned, when he was dragged from sleep before the ringing of the alarm.

"Good morning," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy?" Thomas always sounded uncertain, as if he couldn’t believe Jimmy was really there. That, the notion that even after all these weeks Thomas was still unconvinced, touched Jimmy’s heart at the same time it worried him. Jimmy was here, for good. Forever, if Thomas would have him. What would it take to convince Thomas of that?

“Hello, Thomas.” Jimmy gave him his best, most dazzling smile.

Thomas rolled over and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Twenty to five.” Thomas groaned. “I thought we might…” Jimmy began, but Thomas cut him off.

“Go back to sleep.”

“But we haven’t…” This time, Jimmy trailed off on his own. Talking about it still made him feel awkward. “You know, ‘done that’ in two days.” They’d touched one another the night before, gentle fondling that had become ardent rubbing, but just as Jimmy began to desire more, just as his arse began to feel that incomprehensible but undeniable urge to be filled, Thomas had said, “Sorry, I’m bushed.”

“That’s all right,” Jimmy had replied, magnanimously. There were other things they could do. Jimmy still blushed when he thought of their first night together, when the house was upside down and he was in turmoil. They’d done so much without even removing their clothes. They could do that again. “Come on.” Jimmy tried to pull Thomas on top of him.

“Sorry, Jimmy,” Thomas had repeated, and his eyes slid shut.

Jimmy let it go. Thomas did work dreadfully hard, and Jimmy was no selfish nymphomaniac ceaselessly clamouring for love. Now, as the grey light of morning began to leak into the room, Jimmy was less inclined to give in. “Thomas.” He shook Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas lay like a dead weight. “Thomas, if you don’t sodomize me right now, I’m going back to my own room.”

“Hmm,” Thomas said, and rolled over.

Jimmy didn’t particularly wish to leave, but he’d made the threat, and now he had to follow through or risk losing face. “Fine.” Jimmy stood up. His nightclothes were in a slovenly heap beside the bed. He dressed slowly, hoping Thomas would wake up and realize what a mistake he was making. Jimmy sighed loudly, shaking the mattress roughly as he sat to pull on his drawers. Thomas didn’t move. Jimmy coughed and said, “Good-bye, then,” as loudly as he dared. Thomas did nothing but snore. Jimmy longed to slam the door, but that would have been foolhardy in the extreme. Instead, he clicked it shut and tiptoed down the corridor in silence. 

Jimmy’s own bedroom was cold and underused. Feeling sorry for himself, he slid between the stiff, chilly sheets of his lonely bed and waited for morning.

***

The shared experiences of the haunts and Mme Nicodeme and all that had entailed had brought the residents of Downton Abbey closer together, as traumatic experiences often did. There was a certain camaraderie now between the upstairs and the downstairs, and as Jimmy collected the tea tray from Lord Grantham’s study, His Lordship said, “It’s a lovely day. You ought to get outside, if you have chance.”

“Yes, my lord.” Jimmy refrained from mentioning that he had a list of chores as long as his arm, and if he got outside it would only be to empty the rubbish bins because the hallboys were otherwise engaged. This new camaraderie did not extend quite that far.

Thomas met him on the back stairs, as Jimmy came down from the study. At breakfast, Jimmy had pointedly sat at the other end of the table, next to Bates, and stared daggers over his porridge until Thomas had the good grace to hide behind a newspaper. Now, Thomas looked chagrined, standing three steps down and peering up at Jimmy through his eyelashes. Jimmy felt a crack in the icy hardness around his heart.

“Jimmy.” He caught Jimmy’s arm, lightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…give satisfaction last night.”

“Or this morning.” Jimmy reminded him.

“This morning?”

Jimmy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Carson’s had me running like a dog. But I’m feeling much better today.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jimmy strove for a cutting tone. He did not succeed.

Thomas grinned and bit his lip, a very low move indeed. “Do you fancy something special tonight, to make up for it?”

Jimmy’s throat grew dry, and he clenched his fists around the handles of the tray. “What do you mean, special?”

Thomas winked. “Wait and see.” He moved past, brushing more closely against Jimmy than was strictly necessary on the narrow stairs. Inside Jimmy, excitement warred with its ever-present adversary, anxiety, keeping him rooted to the spot until Alfred passed by and said, “What are you doing standing there?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy snapped, then stepped down too quickly, rattling the teapot and the sugar bowl and grasping the tray tightly to keep from dropping it. Alfred shook his head and moved on, a world of unspoken scorn in his expression.

Jimmy spent the rest of the day slowly winding himself into a state. Thomas did nothing to help. Every time they passed one another, Thomas threw him a wink or a smile, but not his regular smile. It was darker, more sultry, and every time Jimmy saw it, his body was thrown into tumult. Just before dinner, he very nearly gave in and sneaked off to the loo for some relief. Heroically, he restrained himself. Thomas had promised something special. Curiosity outweighed worry enough that Jimmy wanted to be in top form for it.

Even now, after all these weeks, a constant battle raged within Jimmy, his heart and his body fighting against his mind. Jimmy loved Thomas. He adored Thomas. He loved the things Thomas did to him, the things that curled Jimmy’s toes and made his hair stand on end. And he loved the things he did to Thomas. Jimmy loved seeing Thomas’ beautiful cock, straining and rock-hard with lust, and knowing he was the cause of it. He loved being buggered by Thomas. He loved the feeling of connection, of being together heart and body and soul, that filled him to bursting whenever Thomas was inside him. He couldn’t imagine sharing that closeness with anybody else. He and Thomas would be together forever, Jimmy was entirely convinced of it. If, for some reason, they weren’t, if some horrific catastrophe tore them asunder, then Jimmy would remain celibate for the rest of his life. Nobody could compare to Thomas. Jimmy wouldn’t even bother trying.

At the same time, a cold shiver of worry still moved through Jimmy whenever he thought too deeply about what they did. Thomas was quite a bit larger than Jimmy, taller and heavier and stronger. He would never hurt Jimmy, he’d said so over and over again. He’d proven it, too. Thomas would never lay a finger on him, not even if he deserved it, but that didn’t mean Thomas couldn’t hurt him. Every time they were together, Jimmy took a risk. It was a calculated risk, a safe risk, but a risk nonetheless. Jimmy couldn’t talk about it with Thomas. Thomas didn’t understand and it hurt his feelings to hear Jimmy didn’t trust him, which wasn’t at all what Jimmy meant, but Jimmy was always aware of it. It excited him to be vulnerable to Thomas, both in his body and in his heart, but the other side to this delicious vulnerability, of course, was the possibility Jimmy might one day have cause to regret it.

The whole situation was eased by alcohol, of which Jimmy had far too little. Not even an after dinner tipple, Jimmy thought, as they all sat around the servants’ hall after their own supper. Meanwhile, them upstairs go through three bottles a day. His hands were shaking a little. He picked out a few pieces on the piano, more staccato than they were meant to be. When he turned around, only Bates, Anna and Thomas were left in the hall.

“I’m going to bed.” Jimmy stood up, suddenly unable to take any more.

“Good night, Jimmy.” Anna smiled.

“Yes. Good night,” Thomas said, without even looking up.

Jimmy didn’t go to his room, but to Thomas’. He did so as a matter of course, now, splashing water from Thomas’ bowl onto his face and drying himself with Thomas’ towel. Thomas hated that, since it meant he was left with a damp towel himself, but Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to be racked with guilt over it. He took off his livery, hanging it in its usual place over the back of Thomas’ chair, because Thomas refused to give him any space in the wardrobe. “What if somebody comes in?” was Thomas’ usual excuse. “How would it look if I’ve got your clothes hanging in my wardrobe?”

“They don’t have to know they’re my clothes,” Jimmy replied. “Maybe they’ll think you’re ready to step in as a footman on a moment’s notice.” But Thomas hadn’t relented. So far, Jimmy added, and began to look for something to drink.

Thomas usually had a bottle of whisky, or at least a portion of one, secreted at the bottom of a drawer. Jimmy opened the top drawer and rifled through half-smoked packets of cigarettes and cheap souvenir ashtrays from Ripon and London. There was no whisky, and Jimmy was about to move on to the next drawer when an envelope caught his eye.

The return address was in German. Jimmy could recognize that from his time in the war, although he couldn’t read what it said. The stamp bore an image of a zeppelin, and the words LZ Bodensee were written in the top right hand corner. Intrigued, Jimmy reached into the already-opened envelope and pulled out a letter.

 _Hello old chum_ , he read. _Hope all is well with you and you haven’t had any more trouble of a ‘spirited’ nature, ha ha. We had an easy trip back. We stopped for a week in Nice, and it was very ‘Nice’ indeed. I hated to leave, but all is well in old Kraut-land. I’d rather hoped something exciting might have happened while we were away, but it seems as if you have all the luck, and I don’t just mean with the ghosts! I hope your little blond friend comes around soon. I wouldn’t mind a “friend” of my own, certainly not one that looks like that, ha ha. All the best and keep in touch. Love, Fred._

Jimmy finished the letter just as the door swung open. “Fred?” He wanted to scream, but remembered just in time the necessity of keeping quiet. It came out as a strangled whisper instead. Thomas raised an eyebrow and shut the door.

“Why are you reading my letters?”

“Why are you getting letters from Fred?”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jimmy was torn between ripping up the letter and dashing it dramatically to the floor. He ended up holding it, gripping it between his hands until it began to crumple and Thomas frowned.

“Don’t do that.” He took the letter, extracting it gently from Jimmy’s grasp and smoothing out the paper. “I like to reread them.” He folded it up and put it on his desk.

Jimmy could barely form coherent words. “I cannot believe you could betray me like this.”

Thomas, apparently oblivious to the gross breach of trust he had just committed, took off his jacket and hung it carefully in the wardrobe. “I am furious,” Jimmy said, to clarify the situation. Thomas looked at him.

“So I see. I don’t know why.”

“Because I thought I could trust you. And now, to learn that you’ve been going behind my back and writing to that bloody awful lavender Alfred…”

“Are you jealous?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Good. Because there’s no need.” Thomas smiled. He held out a hand, but Jimmy refused to take it. He shouldn’t think he’s getting off that lightly. Jimmy scowled. Thomas sighed and withdrew his hand. “Jimmy, it’s not easy for me to make friends, especially not friends I can be honest with.”

“And you can be honest with Awful Alfred, can you?” Looking at Thomas, Jimmy could feel his annoyance beginning to wane. He tried valiantly to maintain it.

“I won’t write about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why are you in such a state about it?”

“Because I’ve been in a state all day.”

Just like that, Thomas’ expression changed. A leer came to his lips and something predatory, something that made all parts of Jimmy’s psyche unite and quiver, appeared in his eyes. “Oh, is that so?” Without taking his eyes away, Thomas pushed down his own braces and took a step towards Jimmy.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Jimmy’s voice was not his own. Thomas shook his head. “Nothing? Not even, ah, some wine? Or something?”

“Nothing, Jimmy. I’m sorry.” Jimmy had never seen anybody look less sorry in his life. Thomas closed the gap, rested his hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and bent down for a kiss.

Jimmy obliged him. Thomas kissed softly, at first, but his tongue quickly grew more insistent, pushing and sliding against Jimmy’s, as his hands tightened on Jimmy’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, my love,” Thomas said, pulling away. “I’ll look after you.”

Thomas undressed himself slowly, allowing Jimmy to feast his eyes on every inch of exposed flesh. Thomas was a tease. One wouldn’t have expected so from looking at him, from the staid, buttoned-up persona he presented in public, but there was a joyfulness about him, or there could be, a happy, carefree eroticism he showed to Jimmy and Jimmy alone. Sometimes, when Jimmy was in a particularly morose mood, he wondered if Thomas had been like this for his other lovers, for the five men who’d come before. It didn’t do to dwell on those thoughts, even Jimmy knew that, and he tried not to think of them.

When Thomas was finally naked, Jimmy looked him up and down, revelling in the sight of Thomas’ broad bare shoulders, his strong thighs, his large cock, still flaccid but beginning to stir with interest. Jimmy loved Thomas’ body, in a way he’d never loved any body before. Before, Jimmy had seen bodies, even astonishingly good-looking ones, as nothing more than shells, cases in which people hid their true selves, the way Jimmy hid himself. He’d never appreciated how beautiful a body could be. Now, Jimmy could spend hours rhapsodizing—in his mind, of course—about the swell of Thomas’ chest, about the line of hair which led so enticingly, like Hansel and Gretel’s trail of bird crumbs, from Thomas’ furred chest down to the nest around his cock, about the foreskin that hid Jimmy’s ultimate desire like delicate pink wrapping paper. And then there was Thomas’ face. _The curves of your lips rewrite history,_ Jimmy thought, sometimes. He would never say it aloud. Thomas would love to hear it, but it was bad enough, all they did together. Jimmy wasn’t going to start quoting Oscar Wilde.

He could say, “You look wonderful,” and he did. The words brought a blush to Thomas’ cheeks and to his chest.

“Come here.” Thomas held out his hand again. This time, Jimmy went, letting himself be wrapped in those strong arms, thrilling to the sensation of it. He tilted his head up for a kiss, but Thomas laughed.

“You’re still dressed.”

“Hardly.” Still, his underclothes were suddenly constricting, as cumbersome and inconvenient as armour. Thomas slipped his thumbs into the waistband of Jimmy’s drawers and pulled down. Balancing against Thomas, Jimmy shed the drawers as suavely as possible. He pulled the under-vest off over his head and then he was naked and chest-to-chest with Thomas, their cocks aligned. Now, Thomas kissed him, a little bit. He licked Jimmy’s mouth once, then pulled back, forcing Jimmy to follow him with his lips and his tongue.

“Sit on the bed,” Thomas ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy grumbled, but the nerves, which had been thoroughly conquered by Thomas’ little striptease, regrouped for another assault. “What are we…I mean, what are you…” It was a conundrum. Jimmy hated talking about it, but he also hated surprises.

“You can trust me, Jimmy.”

“I know that. That’s not the trouble, it’s just…”

“Sit down.”

Jimmy sat, evidently wrongly. Thomas pulled him forward, until Jimmy was at the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor. Thomas knelt between Jimmy’s legs and kissed him, properly this time.

Jimmy liked this position. They were of a height—Thomas was even a bit shorter—and it was a lovely change for Jimmy not to be forever leaning upwards. He put his arms around Thomas and kissed him for a long moment, mapping out territory he’d visited many times before. Even when Thomas pulled away, he stayed close to Jimmy. He moved his mouth to Jimmy’s cheek, flicked his tongue against Jimmy’s earlobe, and slid down to Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy tilted his head away, allowing him better access, and Thomas took advantage of it. He licked and sucked. The pressure grew more intense and Jimmy’s cock hardened with every passing moment. Suddenly, Jimmy said, “No,” and Thomas pulled off at once, detaching from Jimmy’s neck with a wet pop. “Sorry.” Jimmy was dizzy. “Don’t leave a, um, a mark.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that.” Thomas had only done it once before, sucking such a love bite into Jimmy’s neck that it seemed as though Jimmy had been attacked by some wild animal. Strangely enough, Jimmy hadn’t minded. He belongs to me, and I belong to him, he’d thought as he examined the mark in the mirror, a feeling both so soppy and so frightening Jimmy forbade the words from ever returning to his mind. “It rubs against my collar. It hurts.” More than that, there was the fear somebody might catch a glimpse of it and wonder. There was no excuse Jimmy could make for a bruise like that.

“What about here?” Thomas crouched lower. He put his lips against Jimmy’s chest, just above his right nipple.

“All right.” Jimmy gasped, and Thomas got to work.

It was a thing of beauty when it was done, a little strawberry-shaped mark nobody would ever see, unless Alfred or one of the hallboys chanced upon Jimmy in the bath. Jimmy didn’t have long to admire it before Thomas was moving again, his tongue tracing the line of Jimmy’s muscles, lower and lower. “Move back,” Thomas instructed, and Jimmy did, keeping propped up on his elbows so he could monitor Thomas’ progress. Thomas circled Jimmy’s navel teasingly, then slipped his tongue inside, a sensation that had Jimmy clenching his fists. Thomas went lower still, planting a row of kisses from Jimmy’s navel to the sparse forest of hair that surrounded Jimmy’s cock.

Jimmy wasn’t a hairy man. He’d never regretted it, particularly. It meant he only had to wrestle with a razor a couple of times a week, unlike Thomas, who was at it every morning and still bore a deliciously roguish layer of stubble by the time they retired together at night. Being so close to a man who was so hirsute—so unexpectedly manly—had made Jimmy wonder briefly about his own masculinity, but the worry hadn’t lasted long. Men weren’t all the same. Alfred was a man; Molesley was a man. Having a little less hair on his body, being a little shorter than some, liking to look nice and be well-groomed—none of that made Jimmy less of a man than anybody else. Enjoying the sensation of another man’s stubble grazing the inside of his thighs didn’t make Jimmy any less of a man, either, and he allowed himself to relish it as Thomas rubbed against him, up and down, switching from one thigh to the other. _Perfection,_ Jimmy thought, his heart gaining speed and his breath coming in gasps. _Oh, Thomas, you’re perfect. I love you._

Then Thomas put his mouth on Jimmy’s cock.

Jimmy flew backwards, as if pushed by some unseen hand, and fell off the other side of the bed. As he went, his feet kicked out automatically. One collided with some soft part of Thomas, who fell to the floor as Jimmy sailed over the far edge of the bed.

“Oh, shite. Shite. I’m sorry.” Jimmy stood up and came around. Thomas was going to hate him now. But he couldn’t do that, that wasn’t something that could be done. It wasn’t possible…

“It’s all right.” Thomas smiled. He was sitting up again. Jimmy joined him on the floor. He meant to sit beside him, to keep a respectful distance, but Thomas pulled Jimmy right onto his lap, facing him, both of Thomas’ legs between Jimmy’s and their cocks pressed cozily together. “It’s my fault. I should have warned you. I know how you get about new things.”

Jimmy frowned. “There’s no need to be patronizing because I don’t want you to degrade yourself.”

“I like it. I don’t think it’s degrading.”

“Well, you should.”

“Why?”

“Because it is.”

“That’s circular logic, my darling.” Thomas reached out, brushing the hair back off Jimmy’s forehead. “I promise you’ll enjoy it. Every man in history has.”

And Thomas would know, because Thomas had been with them. Five of them, anyhow. Jimmy shook his head. “I want the other thing, what we normally do.” Even he could hear the conviction in his voice waver. How does Thomas do this to me, time after time? It was a rhetorical question. Jimmy knew perfectly well how. He did it because he was Thomas.

“You can have both.”

Jimmy looked at him. Thomas had the gall to lean forward and peck him on the nose. Jimmy sighed. “Well, you can’t be on your knees.” If he was going to give in, there would have to be concessions on Thomas’ side as well. “We have to be together.”

“The bed’s not big enough.”

“I’m certain you can resolve the issue, Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas sighed, but hesitated for only a moment. “Sit with your back against the headboard.” Jimmy did so. “And stretch your legs out in front of you. Leave a gap for me.” Jimmy spread his legs, feeling only slightly wanton. Oh, how quickly we adapt, he thought, as Thomas settled on his front between them. A few short weeks ago, before the visit from Lieutenant Courtenay and friends, Jimmy would have broken the nose of any man—or woman, for that matter—who dared suggest Jimmy might enjoy… having relations with another man. Now, Jimmy couldn’t get enough of relations, and every last taboo, no matter how hard he tried to hold on, was slipping through his fingers like finely ground flour.

“Shift your bum forward.” Jimmy obeyed, clenching his fists and refusing to allow embarrassment to gain any purchase in his mind. Hunching over, Thomas fit on the bed, barely. He held up a hand, his left. Jimmy took it and hung on.

“You needn’t look like you’re seeing the dentist, Jimmy.” With his other hand, Thomas slipped back Jimmy’s foreskin and held his cock like a lolly. “You’ll enjoy it. I promise.”

“Hm.” Jimmy’s palms sweated with anticipation or nerves or something, but his cock, his always-traitorous cock, was eager for Thomas to continue. It was leaking already, a bead forming on the tip. Looking into Jimmy’s eyes, Thomas bent down and deliberately licked it off.

Jimmy shot backwards again, pressing so hard into the headboard he was certain the pattern of the bars was imprinted into his skin. “More?” Thomas asked. Jimmy nodded.

Keep control, don’t embarrass yourself. It was Jimmy’s mantra, repeated over and over in his mind every time he shared love with Thomas. This time, it was wiped away with the first swipe of Thomas’ tongue down his cock. Jimmy couldn’t control anything. He dug his hands into Thomas’ hair, he lifted his hips off the bed, he groaned so loudly that Thomas pulled his mouth away—leaving Jimmy’s cock momentarily cold, wet and bereft—and said, “Shut up, Jimmy.” He was smiling, though, and Jimmy could tell he was pleased with himself.

Well, he bloody should be. Jimmy didn’t know if all men of Thomas’…persuasion were as skilled in bedroom arts as Thomas. It would be a recompense of sorts, Jimmy supposed, for the way they were born, but not a particularly fair one. What good did it do to excel at love if a man took his freedom, maybe even his life, into his hands every time he enacted it? Still, that sort of almost humorous injustice fit very well with what Jimmy knew of the world, and he could easily believe it was true.

Or maybe it was just Thomas. Maybe Jimmy had been spectacularly fortunate to meet a man who was handsome and charming and kind, when he wanted to be, and also an amazing lover. It didn’t matter. Thomas pressed his tongue against the head of Jimmy’s cock, kissed the shaft, sucked the length of it down his throat further than Jimmy would ever have imagined it could go, and, just like that, a familiar wave of painful ecstasy rolled through Jimmy’s body.

He hadn’t expected it so soon. It was embarrassing. He didn’t have chance to warn Thomas, but if Thomas minded receiving a sudden mouthful of Jimmy, he was too polite to say. And it was a spectacular mouthful. Jimmy came harder and longer than he had since that first night, the night of the flaming trees, his heart pounding as though it would burst. Everything he felt for Thomas, all the love and lust and everything he couldn’t define but had been there since the beginning—even if Jimmy had been too blind to see it—bubbled up inside him and overflowed, a saucepan left too long on the boil, a volcano building steam for centuries. The world went white, then black. When Jimmy opened his eyes, he’d moved down the bed, his head resting on Thomas’ small flat pillow. Thomas lay beside him, his face so close to Jimmy’s, Jimmy couldn’t make out his expression. He didn’t need to. He could hear the contentment in Thomas’ voice when Thomas asked, “How was that, then?”

There were no words for it. Instead, Jimmy lay his hand on Thomas’ rough cheek and leaned in for a kiss. An unfamiliar, salty taste clung to Thomas’ lips and tongue. When he realized what it was, Jimmy blushed and turned away, overcome by a ridiculous shyness.

Thomas nudged Jimmy’s cheek with his nose. “It’s all right, love,” Thomas whispered. “It’s good.”

It wasn’t. No matter what Thomas said, it was a disgusting, degrading act. It had felt wonderful, like nothing else they’d done, but that didn’t change the facts. Plenty of wonderful things were wrong. Jimmy didn’t think of what they had together as wrong, per se, but everything had its limit, and Thomas had passed that limit. Jimmy had allowed him to pass it, had permitted him to debase himself for Jimmy’s own pleasure. So what does that make me?

“Jimmy, don’t. Don’t think.” Thomas shifted, rolling halfway on top of Jimmy, his erection throbbing against Jimmy’s groin. The sensation of Thomas’ weight, of being pressed into the mattress, was still more comforting to Jimmy than it had any right to be. “Will you let me be with you?”

They’d done it every night for weeks, but still, Thomas always asked. Never crudely, the way Jimmy had demanded it that first night and still did, more often than not, but sweetly, almost romantically, with some elegant and discreet turn of phrase. And he always waited for a reply. It drove Jimmy mad, at times, but Thomas would never proceed without explicit permission.

Permission Jimmy was all too happy to grant. “Yes, please.”

Thomas smiled and reached over, leaning across Jimmy’s body and taking the well-used jar of petroleum jelly off the table.

Jimmy didn’t need much preparation, not anymore. “I’m practically an expert these days,” Jimmy said, a touch of his old self returning as Thomas slipped in one finger and then two with comparative ease. Comparative to how it had been that first night, when only determination and Jimmy’s considerable force of will had gotten them through it at all.

“You’re a master.” Thomas’ voice was already shaky with lust, his left hand unsteady as he stroked it down Jimmy’s side. Jimmy was glad of that. The day might come when he found it hard to keep Thomas’ attention. He was already thinking, in an idle sort of way, of little tricks he might employ to make sure Thomas always found him irresistible, but for now, Jimmy knew Thomas loved him and desired him completely, that he couldn’t believe his luck. The feeling is mutual, Jimmy thought, fondly, and leaned up for a kiss.

No matter how often they did it, the initial push of Thomas’ cock always brought a twinge of panic. It was over quickly, it lasted less than a second, but it was there, a little voice in the back of Jimmy’s mind that said, What the devil are you doing? Then it was gone. Pleasure replaced panic, and Jimmy relaxed. This was natural. There was no man on Earth who would ever convince him otherwise. That other thing, what Thomas had done earlier, was wrong, but this, the joining of two men as equals, was beautiful and meaningful and right.

Jimmy brought his legs around Thomas’ waist, pulling him in as close as he could. Sometimes, Jimmy liked to see Thomas, to watch the myriad emotions that passed so clearly over the man’s normally cautiously expressionless face, but tonight Jimmy wanted something else. He wanted to feel Thomas. He wanted to touch as much as possible. He wanted all the sensations of Thomas’ skin: the prickle of his unshaven face, the silkiness of his chest and stomach, his smooth back and his surprisingly muscular arms. Jimmy wanted to feel the intriguing dissonance between Thomas’ hands, the rough and the soft. He wanted to touch Thomas’ hair, a battlefield upon which pomade warred nightly with bedroom sweat and a hard day’s work only to inevitably surrender and let tendrils escape, to hang loose over Thomas’ face. Jimmy wanted all of Thomas. He let his hands range freely up and down Thomas’ body. He closed his eyes and felt Thomas’ love radiating from every part of him, emanating from the inside out like a glorious warm light.

It was too soon for another go. Jimmy wasn’t getting hard, but a similar sensation, surprisingly, built within him as he let himself experience Thomas, being with him as much as it was possible to be with anybody. The same feeling of heart-pounding breathlessness, the same buzz, sent Jimmy soaring higher and higher, even as his cock remained flaccid. He clung to Thomas desperately with his arms and legs, panting into his ear, murmuring nonsense. Thomas caught his mouth, sealing their lips together, muffling a cry as he came, hot and wet, inside Jimmy. A moment later, Jimmy came, too. There was no physical evidence of it, no eruption of sticky seed, but it felt the same, and so did the love that came with it, simultaneous and inseparable from the pleasure.

They lay side-by-side in silence for a long moment afterwards. Not even Jimmy could think of anything to say. Thomas had one arm flung over his face. Jimmy watched the movements of his chest slow gradually, and when he was breathing almost normally again, Thomas moved his arm and looked over. “That was a good one.”

“They’re all good ones,” Jimmy replied, but he knew what Thomas meant. That had been something else, a step above. He would almost have suspected…intervention of some type, but there had been no word from Lieutenant Courtenay or anybody else since the night of the flaming trees. Besides, the thought of the Lieutenant getting involved on such an intimate level was disturbing, and Jimmy didn’t even want to entertain the thought. “For me, too,” he added.

Thomas sat up and reached for his cigarettes. He offered the box to Jimmy, who shook his head, and lit one up.

Thoughts swirled in Jimmy’s mind, twisting and turning and knotting themselves like a poorly wrapped ball of wool. Haphazardly, he reached in and grabbed an end. “It’s not…appropriate, you know, you doing that.” Thomas looked at him. Jimmy flushed, but he had to press on. He was in the right. “You know what I mean. That. The first thing.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow and took a long draw on the cigarette. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“You know.”

“I don’t know anything, Jimmy. Really.”

Jimmy sighed. “It’s not right. I can’t never do it to you.”

“Did I ask you to?”

“That’s not the point.”

Thomas sighed. “I love you. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“If you don’t like it, I won’t do it.”

“I did like it.” That was the problem.

“I’ll never understand you, my love.” Thomas shook his head. The sight of his lips, caressing his cigarette as it slipped in and out between them, was suddenly disconcerting. Jimmy held out his hand. “Give me that.” Thomas took a final drag and passed it over. Jimmy ground it out in the ashtray and pulled Thomas down, face-to-face beside him. Normally, Jimmy washed himself off afterwards, but he couldn’t be bothered tonight. He couldn’t be bothered, either, to dress in his nightclothes, so he gathered Thomas to him, naked, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it.” It was too much. He was sorry he’d brought it up. He didn’t even want to think about it, but he knew it would be haunting his dreams. “Good night.” He screwed his eyes ostentatiously shut. Thomas laughed, a chuckle Jimmy felt more than heard.

“Good night, Jimmy.”

Within moments, Thomas was asleep. Dead asleep, his arm a weight over Jimmy and his breath coming in deep sighs that may or may not turn into house-shaking snores. Jimmy would never say it, but this was the part he liked best. He loved the relations, he loved being close to Thomas in that way, but these moments, the after moments, made Jimmy feel they were a proper couple. He hasn’t been with anybody else like this, not a single other man. Jimmy knew that because Thomas had told him. The first night they’d slept together, in the middle of the haunts, had been the first entire night Thomas had ever spent in bed with another man. “I ought to have made it a bit more special, then,” Jimmy replied, when Thomas told him this, even as his heart soared. No matter what Thomas had done with his other lovers—and Jimmy imagined there was plenty he couldn’t even guess at—this was theirs and theirs alone.

Jimmy lay awake for a long moment, then slipped out from beneath Thomas’ arm. Awful Alfred’s letter was still on the desk, folded neatly in a corner. Jimmy pulled open the drawer, mindful of the squeak, and took out a sheet of blank writing paper and a pen. He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to do, but he didn’t know where to begin.

Standing naked at the desk, Jimmy bent over and wrote, My dear. He was about to add, ‘Thomas’, but stopped. Better to leave names out of it. Safer that way. _I love you._ That seemed a little plain. He added: _madly._ He wasn’t good at this sort of thing, he never had been. He’d never wanted to be, not until now, and now he wished it beyond measure.

Jimmy folded the note and left it behind Thomas’ razor, where he would be sure to find it in the morning, after Jimmy had gone back to his room to dress. Then he crawled back into bed and dreamed of forbidden things, happier than he’d ever been in his life.


End file.
